Between two trees
We stand together.
Not clumped or
Heaped but purposely
Placed; intrinsically forever.
Three East
And
One South
Twenty four butter
Yellow fans with
Egg yolk faces
Bow and sway.
Defiant to the
Airy taunt.
A canoe paddled by natives headed through mangroves and giant water lilies, towards the village of Puntagalula deep in the Amazon jungle. Here, Father Percy Whitaker would be taking up his ministerial work with the missionaries and two nuns. He had left his parish over a week ago. A parish in Devon that he simply adored. But God had called him, and Gods will must be done. He was twenty four, single and devoted to his calling, so it wasn’t too difficult to leave behind, all the friends he had made.
Housekeeper, Mrs Blades cried as she had handed him a leather shopping bag. Here Father, I have packed you some treats for your journey. I know you are bound to get peckish and love my baking and homemade lemonade. The bag may also come in handy for picking bananas or maybe coconuts and things that grow there. Even though there are no shops where you are going you could need a bag”. She wiped away a tear with the bottom of her apron. “I wish you didn’t have to leave us. You will take care, won’t you?”
Continue ReadingHi there! Hope you’re spending this extra, enforced, free time on your writing projects. Since I haven’t received any stories or poems to post just lately, I thought I’d give you a nudge with a picture prompt this time.
What does it suggest to you? Where is she, who/what is she running from? She seems to have had time to pick up an umbrella but not put on her shoes – what’s that about? I’m sure there are lots of scenarios that you can create. Have a think, have a write (short story/flash fiction/poem, whatever you like!), then send them to me to share. I look forward to reading them.
Keep safe x
He is always there beside me always in my sight
Except in the privacy of night.
He knows my every movement there is no escape,
Following my footsteps
Whenever I’m awake.
I must be careful about what I let him see
He’s always watching me,
He’s always watching me.
In order to do our best to keep our members safe and virus free, it has been reluctantly decided to suspend our meetings for the time being. Of course, that doesn’t mean a break from writing! In fact, with all this isolation it should be a perfect time to settle down with pen and ink or keyboard.
We do want to make sure we keep in touch, and of course, we’ll need to keep this space alive, so do keep sending your work to us to share. I’ll give you a prompt now and again, just in case you need a nudge of inspiration.
You will have seen the last prompt was ‘Copy’ – have you written anything around that yet? If that hasn’t set your pen in motion, why not try this week’s:
As usual, use any format you like, and any interpretation. I’ll look forward to reading your work.
Keep safe. x
Why is it that I could copyright this
Relatively worthless poetry but it
Proved impossible to protect my love
For her from being plagiarised by some
More skillful but uncaring lover?
Somewhere the rooks
have just risen from sleep,
peering down from the tops
of the sycamores and beeches.
